


The Wisconsin State Cow Chip Throwing Contest...

by lola381pce



Series: Imagine Clint Coulson Prompts [15]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: BAMF Clint Barton, BAMF Phil Coulson, Canon-Typical Violence, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Dimples and Eye Crinkles on Phil are a Good Look, Entertaining Facts About Wisconsin, Explicit Language, First Time Clint Sees Coulson Be Badass, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Phil Thinks Clint's Smile Is Charming and Damned Sexy, Some Swearing and Lustful Thoughts, The Wisconsin Cow Chip Throwing Contest, Tumblr Prompt, Tumblr: imagineclintcoulson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 07:44:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11847078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lola381pce/pseuds/lola381pce
Summary: For an Imagine ClintCoulson prompt by paperdollkiss:"First time Clint sees Coulson be badass"





	The Wisconsin State Cow Chip Throwing Contest...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [paperdollkisses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperdollkisses/gifts).



> We are always accepting new prompts at our tumblr account, so feel free to drop by with a little headcanon or ask.

Clint is exactly where his new-ish handler needs him to be; his “eyes up high” watching for trouble and ready to take the shot as needed. Unfortunately, Coulson’s well-planned mission has morphed into a big, unhappy clusterfuck and Clint was called on to do exactly that. Somehow Hydra got wind of the op and sent in enough goons to overrun their position. Backup is coming but so is Christmas and Barton knows which one he’s placing bets on.

He was able to get word about the shit hitting the fan early enough to Coulson for him to call it and get some of his agents to safety. Unfortunately, he’s been caught on the ground with those that are left. Clint’s sorry about that. They’ve always worked well in the short time they’ve been assigned together. One of his better handlers truth be told and one he kinda looks forward to working with. But as fast as he’s taking out the Hydra fuckers from his nest, others are taking their place. Never has their motto been so accurate.

He’s not holding out much hope but he’ll keep Coulson and the ground crew alive as long as he has ammo. Sadly, he’s beginning to run short and it would appear Hydra has plenty of cannon fodder to send in.

Speaking of the ground crew, they’re actually putting up a pretty good fight of their own. Apparently, that’s one rumour about Coulson that’s true. He only selects the best for his team (obviously with Hawkeye: The World’s Greatest Marksman on board) and they’re taking out a fair number of Nazi-fuckwits of their own. They might stand a chance after…

Clint catches a quick movement to his left which breaks him out of his musings.

What the fuck? Is that…? It _is_! It’s fucking Coulson wearing a Kevlar tac vest over his shirt walking into a firefight calm as you please shooting shit up. Sensible him taking off his suit jacket, less movement restriction, and he can't help but notice, even in all this fuckery, the powerful arms below his rolled up shirt sleeves. However, that's not really the point. The point is...

“Eh… Boss? Can I ask, what the _fuck_ are you doing?”

“Little tied up to explain, Barton but… some cover fire would be nice,” Coulson quips back at him as he drops to one knee, releases a clip out of his handgun replacing it with another, and takes out three Hydra agents without missing a beat. That’s kinda hot Barton thinks to himself. It’s the first time he’s seen Coulson in action and another rumour about him being a badass motherfucker also appears to be true.

Clint immediately complies dropping another four thugs converging on Coulson’s position. Dammit it to hell though! He’s got an image of Coulson naked and bound which is doing wonders for his libido if not his concentration. Good job Hydra is setting themselves up like fish in a barrel. It’s just like being back at the circus again taking minimal effort on his part.

“Appreciate it, Agent,” Coulson tells him getting back to his feet and continuing his mission to wherever the fuck he’s going. Clint spots a stranded agent near Coulson’s current position and in the direction he’s headed. Oh! Okay then. A one man rescue op.

“My pleasure. Some nice shootin’ there yourself, Tex.”

And he means it. Coulson was cool, calm and deadly accurate with his aim. As a marksman, Clint finds a lot to admire with Coulson’s form and economy of movement. And he means his shooting stance. Nothing else. Probably.

“Wisconsin actually,” Coulson tells him advancing swiftly and with a grim determination completely ignoring the bullets that are zinging past him.

The guy has a set of large ones, Barton will give him that as he shoots another couple of “fish” before the remainder drops behind a wall to hide. Yeah, stay there assholes! That kind of crazy-ass fearlessness is definitely kinda hot and he finds himself stirring in his pants.

“Don’t know how to respond to that, sir. You say it like it’s supposed to impress me.”

“Belleville is the Unidentified Flying Object Capital of Wisconsin. Bloomer is the Jump Rope Capital of the World. The Hamburger hall of fame is located in Seymour. Prairie du Sac hosts the State Cow Chip Throwing Contest on Labour Day weekend.”

As Coulson recites the [Wisconsin facts ](http://www.50states.com/facts/wisconsin.htm)he shoots out the tyres from an SUV that’s heading straight for him sending it veering off course. Clint takes out the windshield along with the driver and passenger. Coulson is plain nuts! Out in the open like that, rattling off trivia about fucking Wisconsin.

“Well now, sir. That’s mighty impressive. But what the fuck is the [State Cow Chip Throwing Contest](http://wiscowchip.com/)?”

“We get out of this, Barton, I might take you to see it one of these days.”

“You’ve just given me a major new incentive, sir.”

“Good to know you’re finally impressed, Barton.”

As he reaches his destination, the wounded agent lying a few feet from cover, Coulson jerks with a grunt as his luck finally runs out. A bullet catches him in the left shoulder on the edge of his vest sending a spray of blood into the air. Another one tears into his upper arm while a third hits him dead centre of his chest knocking him off his feet.

“Coulson!” Clint shouts, his voice full of concern. He takes out the shooter with a snarl and a great deal of vehemence. “Coulson. You okay?”

“Peachy,” he groans after a moment’s fighting against passing out. Or puking. Or both. Thankful Hydra is too dumbass to go for a headshot, Coulson slowly gets to his feet and continues with his rescue mission. He switches his gun from his right to his useless left hand and grabs the agent by the collar of his vest to pull him behind the wall.

Clint watches both impressed and anxious for Coulson. But also determined. He’s going to keep this batshit crazy, badass motherfucker alive no matter what it takes. This is the kind of handler he wants. This is the kind of handler he _needs_. And he’s not giving up on him yet.

“Thought you were trying to welch out of our deal there.”

Coulson snorts as he checks the other agent’s vitals and treats him as best he can… with one good hand, and blood pouring down his other arm from his own wounds. “It’s _the_ Cow Chip Throwing Contest in the State. Attracts around 40,000 visitors. Why would I want to welch out of that?”

“Why indeed, sir? Maybe you’ve built it up a bit too much? If something sounds too good to be true… Just sayin’.”

“You mean if it quacks like a duck and waddles like a duck…”

“…it’s probably a giant cow turd,” Clint finishes for him, picking off another couple of jackboot assholes.

“Bit like this mission,” says Coulson ruefully. Clint hears the fatigue in Coulson’s voice. Now that he’s stopped, the adrenaline that’s been keeping him going is beginning to wear off and he’s starting to crash. Not good.

“Ah c’mon now, sir. The sun’s shinin’, you’re outside in the fresh air instead of being cooped up in your office doing… office-y things, and we’re shootin’ the breeze about cowshit while we’re…”

“… actually shooting Hydra shit.”

“There you go. Silver linin’.”

Coulson laughs then coughs. “Ow.”

“Quit being a wuss, sir. It’s just a flesh wound,” The fact he can see the whole side of Coulson’s shirt is soaked a deep red is something he’s trying to ignore.

“Yeah. Gonna smart in the morning.”

His voice is getting weaker and Clint’s trying not to freak out. He looks to the sky for inspiration and for once in his life, his prayers are answered. In the distance, he can see several specs coming towards them in a recognisable formation. Quinjets.

With a grin, he starts to sing ‘Ride of the Valkyries’ into the comms.

Coulson huffs out a quiet laugh. “That your subtle way of telling me air cavalry’s on the way?”

“Good guess. You gonna hang in there for a rescue? Coulson? _Coulson_!”

***

Eighteen hours later - after an unconscious flight home, some major surgery, ending in an IV of the good drugs - Coulson slowly opens his eyes to see his asset sitting in the chair beside him.

“Darnell?”

“I’m hurt, boss. It’s Barton,” Clint smirks, prompting Coulson to give him a pretty decent eye roll under the circumstances. Ow! Not his best idea ever.

“Darnell’s fine. Came through surgery like a trooper. How’re you doing?”

Coulson gives him a wide and goofy grin which gives him dimples and deepens the crinkles around his eyes. It’s a good look.

“Looking forward to the Wisconsin Cow Chip Throwing Contest,” he says.

Clint laughs wrinkling his nose in the process. Even in his drugged state, Coulson finds it both charming and pretty damn sexy. Although that’s between him and his conscience.

Clint gives him a measured look then ducks his head. He lifts his hand to rub the back of his neck.

“Tell you what,” he says with a shrug. “This year’s is happenin’ September 1st and 2nd. That’s two weeks today. You’re up and about, and the medical staff say you can travel, how about you pop my Cow Chip Throwing Contest cherry and we go along?”

“You’ve just given me a major new incentive, Barton.”

He closes his eyes again to one thought; Clint has already found out the date of this year’s contest. That's pretty awesome.

Clint looks down at his sleeping handler with a soft smile playing around his lips. Charming and damned sexy, huh? He can work with that.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for the prompt, paperdollkiss. Hope you enjoyed the fill :)
> 
> Just for info for anyone who has an interest in Iowa Cow Chip facts: Iowa does have a Cow Chip Throwing Contest (or several probably) and Clint would most likely know what a "Cow Chip" is (I didn't but I'm Scottish and we call them "Cowpats" or "Country Pancakes") but for the story, it's unknown to him. Also, you can buy a chocolate version, although not entirely sure why you'd want to but anyway here's the link should you have a fancy for one... https://www.heartofiowamarketplace.com/product/the-original-iowa-cow-chip/ 
> 
> I can see it featuring in future works somehow.


End file.
